Exceptions
by Of-The-Reds
Summary: Left on the sidewalk after the battle, Loki meets a comforting soul while dwelling on the mistakes of his past and the consequences of his future. One shot.


For the umpteenth time, Loki glanced back over his shoulder at the Midgardian restaurant. Somehow, despite all the chaos and the destruction that had taken place, this miniscule, unobtrusive eating establishment had somehow come out of the fray with hardly a scratch. Other than part of a wall that had crashed inward, the brick building still stood. A bright, flashing neon sign, blinking on and off, displayed to anyone foolish enough to be walking around that the restaurant was still open for business. The florescent lights indoors were dimmed, and a few flickered, but they obstinately remained lit. From the open door, which allowed a warm evening breeze into the building, Loki could hear the words of a foreign tongue. The smell of spice from another land wafted out the door and invaded his nostrils, teasing him, and he would have drooled in hunger at the scent were it not for the infernal muzzle that his brother had forced upon him. The glowing letters above the door spelled a single word in a vivid shade of red: SHWARMA. Loki had no clue what a "shwarma" was, but, if it tasted as delightful as it smelled, he certainly was willing to try it. However, there was little doubt in his mind that Loki would be allowed any sort of luxury for quite some time, and his growling stomach was testament to that. So all he could do was listen to, and curse, the so-called Avengers as they, especially Thor, gorged themselves on shwarma.

After he had been detained, with help from the Midgardian geniuses Banner and Stark, and the Avengers had assessed their injuries, the "Captain America" had suggested getting food, and shwarma was the first word out of Stark's mouth. With the others being too exhausted and famished to argue, they had trudged over to the shop, stumbling over one another in their fatigue. Banner, who had transformed back into man from beast, leaned heavily against Stark, who had removed his suit of iron. The "Captain America" practically dragged his shield along the ground, throwing up sparks whenever it struck the rubble as he stumbled. The two powerless Midgardians, the woman and Loki's former slave, simply walked, refusing to let anyone see the discomfort they were. Though, they both had their fair share of wounds. Even Thor, the god of thunder, dragged his feet as he dragged his brother along behind him. Despite being the only one to walk with his back erect and chin parallel to the ground, Loki could receive no satisfaction from it. How could he when he was muzzled and chained like a common beast of the field? It was humiliating.

When the heroes had arrived at the restaurant, they were too tired to marvel at the fact that it had remained open throughout the attack and just sauntered in. Not before Thor had tied Loki's chain around the nearest pole, which happened to be a bus stop that had survived the battle, at Stark's behest. After making sure that it was nigh impossible for Loki to escape, Thor had shot his brother a pitying stare. Loki met it head on with a fierce glare that could glass, but Thor was unaffected. Running a hand through his blond tresses, Thor had broken the stare, turned his back on his former brother, and entered the restaurant without looking back. Loki had sat underneath an orange streetlight and stared at the empty doorway for a few moments before turning his gaze back to the front and making himself as comfortable as he could on the hard, unforgiving sidewalk.

There had been no point in Loki trying to free himself. He was still healing from the Hulk's attack. Every breath he took was blindingly painful, and every movement caused his bones to creak and groan. Loki's head still throbbed from the multiple times it had hit the polished marble floor of Stark Tower's penthouse. Though his ankle was healed (_That damned creature had broken it in his grip),_ it was still tender and moving it across the asphalt sent a lance of pain racing up his leg. Even if he had managed to free himself, Loki knew that he would not have gotten far until the Avengers found and restrained him once more.

Also, not only was Thor's precautions watertight, to use a Midgardian phrase, Banner and Stark had also been able to develop manacles and a muzzle that would temporarily dampen his powers until they were removed. As much as Loki hated to admit it, he was rather impressed with the pair of geniuses, especially Stark. Whereas Banner was afraid of his capabilities as the large, green monster and used his intelligence as a cover of safety, Stark flaunted both in equal measure, unashamed of his arrogance. It was one of the few things Loki could comprehend and even appreciate about the man with the iron suit, along with the man's ability to find humor in anything. Loki remembered how nonchalant the two had been in his tower, Stark pouring himself a drink while Loki looked on, speaking as if they were talking about something as menial as the weather. Through the taunting and the threatening, there was an underlying mutual respect to be found between them. If Loki had succeeded in his quest, or even if it had been a different time and a different place, he knew that Stark would have been a worthy ally. With his intelligence and personality, it would be a shameful waste to dispose of such a useful Midgardian.

That was as far as his tolerance for the Avengers went, though. The others still held his complete and utter hatred. Banner was an abomination in Loki's, with his ability to transform from unbridled monster to timid Midgardian. If Loki had been gifted with Banner's gift, he would have made good use of it. Also, with that size and Loki's gift of magic, he would be virtually unstoppable, and five insignificant Midgarians and his brother would have no hope of stopping him. Loki simply did not understand what Banner was so afraid of, and that, in turn, only increased his disdain of the man. _His fear is foolish, _Loki thought with a snarl hidden behind his muzzle. _He should embrace the power given to him, use it to its full potential, rather than hide it away and struggled to control it. In the form of a beast, his power is beyond compare of any other creature Midgard has to offer. Combine that with his intelligence and the man would certainly be a force to be reckoned with. But he is too scared to accept the monster within himself. Another flaw in these pathetic Midgardians. They are afraid to take risks and put everything on the line for the sake of glory. It's repulsive. _Also, after being so severely humiliated by the massive beast, there was not a shred of leniency left in Loki for the man that hid it the monster.

The two assassins, the ones they called "Black Widow" and "Hawkeye," were the ones he loathed the most. With their undivided loyalty and sense of morals, they represented everything the Midgardians were in Loki's eyes: mindless and unseeing. Their dedication to the agency known as S.H.I.E.L.D blinded them from what they could accomplish with their skills. They were letting their talents rot all because of some innate sense of "good." _An unmatched skill with the bow and arrow, a level of fighting that could match even a soldier of Asgard, a persistence to see the job through – why can't these morons simply see that they are destined for something greater than doing as someone orders like any dumb creature? _Well, with the "Black Widow," it was her loyalty to the agency that kept her on the white side of the law, whereas she was the reason for the "Hawkeye's" obedience to S.H.I.E.L. remembered seeing that when he had taken control over the man's mind but had brushed it off as nothing. Now, it was just another reason for him to hate the man even more. _Sentiment. _Loki would have scoffed if he had had the freedom to do so. As it was, it came out as a huff. _Loyalty and sentiment – they cripple the lesser beings. Though their bodies are something of an advantage among the Midgardians, the minds of the two assassins are nothing more than clay to be molded and shaped at the will of another. They are like playthings, to be used and discarded at whim. _The "Captain America" was much the same, and Loki despised the patriotic soldier for the same reasons.

There was no point in explaining why he hated his former brother. After years of living in _Thor's_ shadow, struggling to live up to the expectations _Thor_ set, fighting to make himself just as noticeable as _Thor_ was only to have everything he had worked for crumble to pieces at his adopted father's hands… Well, it was hard not to be angry at Thor. _Everyone always loved Thor better_, he mentally hissed. Despite his vow not to be jealous, the damaging emotion still wormed his way into what remained of his heart. _He was the golden child, perfection, and held upon a pedestal for the world to be in awe of as I sat crouched at its base. _With each self-deprecating thought that entered his mind, Loki could feel the heat of his rage and hatred diminishing, replaced by a cold emptiness that seemed… right, in a sense, for someone such as him. There was a completeness about it that Loki disliked, yet he could not think of anything that could fill up that dark void. His attempt at dominating the mortals certainly did not, nor did his attempt to take the throne when Thor had been banished to Midgard over a year ago. It had been there as long as Loki had remembered, slowly growing larger with each praise Thor received and each admonishment that had been thrown Loki's way, eating away at the remnants of the carefree, loving boy he used to be and transforming him into the person he had become today.

He wondered briefly what his mother would think if she saw him, bloodied and beaten at his brother's hand. Loki no longer cared whether his father care about him or not, but his mother's opinion had always been Loki's priority. Unlike Odin and everyone else on Asgard, her attention had been focused primarily on Loki, seeing him succeed and fail throughout life. His achievements earned him soft words of praise that no one had ever thought to give him, and those words from his mother had meant the world to him as a child. His failures were rewarded with a kiss on the head and encouragement to try again, usually under her watchful gaze. She would intervene with a gentle yet helpful command and applaud his attempts, no matter the result. His mother had been his greatest supporter. Loki had gone to her whenever everything seemed to go wrong for him, and she always knew what to say to brighten Loki's mood. She was the only one who fought off Loki's his emptiness when he no longer desired to. _What would she say if she saw me now? _Would she still look at him and see the boy she raised? Loki highly doubted it. "_I'm the monster parents tell their kid about at night" - what mother could stare into the eyes of her child, knowing that that is all he is? A monster._

At the same time, though, Loki remembered what Thor had told him at the beginning of this mess: "_You give up this pointless dream!... You come home."_

_Home…_ What was home anymore? Loki could no longer call Asgard home, not after his true parentage had been revealed and after the damage he had caused among his adopted family and people. Even before everything he had done, Asgard was no home to Loki. He was not wanted there, never had been and never would be. Growing up, Asgard had been nothing more than an elaborate cage. He had been too young and naïve to notice the difference. If he were to return now, not that he had much of a choice in the matter, there would be no ornate prison for him. Rather, Loki knew that he would be reduced to living in a cell for the rest of his miserable life if his father and the others who loathed him had their way. There would be no library for him to lose himself in, no bed to curl up in at nights, no gardens to roam when his head was full to bursting. All he would have would be the four walls of his cage and whatever scarce furniture they granted him. No, Asgard could never be home.

Jotunheim? Despite his heritage, Loki still harbored a deep repugnance of the planet and its people. Even on his darkest day, Loki would rather die that call that icy hell any sort of home.

Midgard? Loki snorted. _Don't make me laugh_. With those being the only places Loki could ever consider a home, and with those places struck through, there was only the stark realization left that Loki had no home. No place, nothing, and no one to call home… Loki was, for the first time, alone. Truly and utterly alone. Not even Thor would encroach on his solitude. _And Thor is usually the first to be here, especially when I don't want him._ Again, Loki glanced back over his shoulder. From his seat on the sidewalk, he couldn't see the people inside the restaurant, but who else would be there other than the owners and the Avengers? Too worn by the day's events, the only sounds that could be heard from them were Thor filling himself with as much shwarma as he could in a single night and the sound of the restaurant owners cleaning the destruction to their shop. If Loki had not been paying attention to them, he would have missed those sounds entirely. It was far too silent. He had grown accustomed to shouted demands, screams of terror and pain (His own and those of the Midgardians. Loki's haggard, broken cries echoed in his mind, and he shook them off with a jerk of his head. _That was in the past. It's over… and so am I_), and explosions that left a ringing in his ears. With his alien army decimated, him captured, and the night covering the city, all those things seemed so far away.

Not a single car dared to traverse the streets that had been reduced to nothing but rubble, no pedestrian was fool enough to leave the safety of their homes even though the danger had passed, and even the creatures of the night were silent. The silence was deafening, and Loki was suffocating. _If only I could remove this damned muzzle…_ His manacled hands came up to grasp at the muzzle, but the chain restraining him forced his hands to a sudden stop just before he could reach it. It was just a hairsbreadth away. He couldn't lean forward, since Thor had made it so that every movement caused an opposite reaction. If he leaned back, his hands moved as well and vice-versa. There was no hope of adjusting his current predicament. Groaning in frustration, Loki dropped his hands into his lap.

_Damn them!_ Loki cursed. _Damn them all to the deepest pits of hell!_ _Damn Banner! Damn Stark! Damn the "Black Widow" and the "Hawkeye" and the "Captain America!" And damn that foolish, sentimental, idiot, Thor!_ Enraged, Loki slammed his chained wrists again the pole over and over and _over_, wishing desperately that it was Thor's face that he was beating in. He continued beating the pole mercilessly until the manacles broke his skin and blood oozed from his wounds and soaked his hands. Once he was out of breath and breathing heavily against the muzzle, Loki slammed his manacles once more against the pole, a muffled scream escaping his lips as the metal burrowed into his flayed wrists. He dropped his hands into his lap once more, and his chest heaved as he struggled to regain his breath. _Damn them… _With each inhale, Loki felt his fury draining once more until he was left with a sense of dissatisfaction.

After the final echo faded away, Loki realized how anticlimactic the silence was. There had been no one to witness his tantrum, no one to react, whether by laughing at how low he had sunk or by scolding him. He would have even preferred the first if it meant that the silence was broken. Without any sort of sound, it left Loki to think, and a thinking Loki was a haunted Loki. In the silence that followed his "meetings" with the Other and followed the devastation of today, all Loki could think of was his actions and what they had caused. _My hurt led to pride. Pride led to hatred and my hatred to death. _Unbidden, the image of the agent he had murdered, Coulson, came to mind. His final words rang through Loki's mind. _"You're gonna lose… It's in your nature… You lack conviction."_

_Is it?_ Loki thought. He had believed that there was no man with more conviction. At the time, Loki had believed that there was nothing that could defeat him, especially not the Avengers. The universe had been at his fingertips, and his plans had been foolproof… _Then everything went wrong. _Without time to comprehend it, Loki had watched as his almost reached goals had shattered like the most fragile of glass. Everything had gone to chaos around him, and the only thing Loki could do was watch as the Avengers gained the advantage and tore his operation down. Like Coulson had predicted, Loki lost. He did not want for conviction, though. So was failure truly in his nature? If Coulson had been right, there was no doubting it. For he was right about Loki losing but wrong about lacking conviction. What did that mean about Loki's nature? He had lost here in Manhattan today, and he had lost at trying to gain the throne during Thor's banishment. He had lost in the quest to become his own man, to become someone that people could look to and tremble in his presence out of fear and respect. He had lost the battle to become better than Thor_. But that was a battle I lost long, long ago. _Growing up, in every irrelevant conflict he had encountered, whether making friends or sparring with Thor, his opponent had come out the victor. _Perhaps it is in my nature to always lose…_

Loki closed his eyes, allowing that to sink in. Before he could accept it, though, the half of his mind tortured and sculpted to malice snarled and raged against that thought, sending it scampering it off. _Nature? NATURE? What do you know about nature? Or losing? Your nature has been twisted and broken and has deteriorated over the years. You know nothing about nature. You only know heartbreak… pain… loss… death. And do you know what that had done? It's made you strong! It's transformed you into a being more worthy than Thor or Odin, and you are far more powerful than those foolish Midgardians. They should be cowering at your feet! And you should be crushing them beneath your heels! Yet you allowed a group of decrepit mortals and your moronic brother to overpower you. There is nothing left to it, though. This battle is over, and, yes, you lost. That does not mean that you are defeated. There is still revenge, and such a sweet revenge it will be against your brother._

…_My brother? I have no family. I have no brother._

_Thor, you idiot! Whose fault is it that your plans to destroy Jotunheim were thwarted? Whose fault is it that you're sitting on a sidewalk, chained and humiliated? Whose fault is it that you've been shunted off to the side and forgotten your entire life? Thor's! The root of all your problems is Thor. The only one worthy of your revenge is that brainless, maudlin idiot, Thor. His love for this pathetic planet has interfered for far too long. Destroy Thor and then nothing will stand in your way. Destroy Thor and you will be able to crush those damned Avengers and take control of the universe. Then no one will dare oppose you. The Asgardians will quake in fear of you, and the Midgardians will praise you as a god, just as they should. _Behind the muzzle, Loki smirked at the thought, but the only evidence of it was a slight twitch of his cheek. His mind conjured up the image of him sitting upon a golden throne, Midgard as his footstool and Thor and Odin bound as he was, on their knees before him, their bodies bloodied and broken. It sent a thrill through him. _That is how the world should be. Like Odin said, you were not made you be king. You were made to be an overlord, a tyrant, of Asgard and Midgard and all the worlds upon Yggdrasil! They should be bowing at your feet._

_They should, _Loki agreed, his growing rage pushing away the cold emptiness that had appeared. If he had not been chained, Loki would have stood and begun pacing, running a hand through his dark, slick hair. As it was, he could only tap his foot in agitation, the faint sound the only thing breaking the oppressive silence. That, along with the voice snarling and snapping at him in his mind, created a barrier against the quiet night. Loki could practically feel it bashing against the invisible barrier repeatedly, wanting to break through and envelop him entirely. Loki had had enough of the silence, though. He had had enough of the self-reflection that came with it, the insanity that resulted, and the crushing guilt that struggled to bury itself within him. _No, I am not in the wrong. Everything I have done has been for a worthy cause. Destroy Asgard's greatest enemies, keep a fool from ascending to the throne, save the Midgardians from themselves – why can't any of those imbeciles see this? If they had only surrendered to me, their lives would be so much simpler. I am doing this for their benefit. Is it wrong that I'd profit from it as well?_

_Of course not._

_Exactly! I deserve to be king for looking out for their miserable lives, and they repay me with malice. I DESERVE TO RULE!_ _I DESERVE TO BE LO-_ Loki was cut off mid-rant by the feel of a raindrop exploding upon his cheek. Eyes sliding shut, Loki exhaled slowly as the heavens were unleashed, and the torrential rainfall poured from the sky. He felt the water slowly plaster his hair to his face and neck, squeeze through the minute gaps in his muzzle, suction his clothing to his body, and wash away the blood staining his hands and wrists. He closed his eyes as the rain showered over him. The suddenness off it silenced the voice in his head, replacing it with the drumming of raindrops upon the asphalt. The sound was oddly calming, and the tension in Loki's shoulders drained away along with the rivulets of water racing down his back. He closed his eyes, hung his head, and thought on the last time he had stood outside during a storm.

It had been back on Asgard, and Loki had been a child, not even nine. He chuckled. _I was just learning how to control my newfound abilities. _He had been attempting to manipulate the water in the garden's pond when the storm began, not that he had noticed. Loki's attention had been entirely on the pond. It had been since the crack of dawn, yet he had only succeeded in causing a ripple. He had been determined to extract some and maneuver it to take whatever shape he desired…_Just like my mother had shown me the day before._ Loki had nearly achieved this goal when exhaustion overcame him and he passed out. When he had awoken, Loki was in his bed, and there was a glass orb on his nightstand. A note written in a slanting, elegant scrawl revealed that it a gift from his mother, who had been the one to find him and return him to his room. _Handling the orb revealed that it was ice, not glass. She had known was I was trying to do and was standing outside my door with a breakfast tray in hand, prepared to get on with the lesson once I had finished eating. It was the first time I had ever used magic that I could control. _Slowly, Loki peeled his eyelids away and turned his green eyes to the sky and the churning grey clouds. _Mother had taught me everything I now know. If only she could see me now, using her blessings to me for acts of horror, what would she say? She'd be horrified._

Loki thought about what would happen once he returned ho- no, to Asgard. No doubt Thor had already notified his father of their imminent return. _When we walk through those ornate, double doors, the throne room will be filled with those who want to see my blood spilt. They will hiss and growl and spit as I am dragged up to the foot of Odin's throne. Thor will walk ahead of me, stoic but with a broken heart, being the valiant hero everyone expects him to be. Odin will look down on me, nothing but shame in his eye, shame for what I have become and for how I have tarnished the reputation of the royal family of Asgard. Mother will be sitting beside him and will be the only one lamenting my loss, tears in her eyes. Yet, as my trial begins and my sentence is decided, she will say nothing. Mother would not dare defy the great Odin for the sake of a lowly son of Jotunheim, their greatest adversaries. And a prisoner, no less! _Loki sighed. _Would she even still see me as her son? Or just as the monster I truly am?_

The pitter-patter of feet rushing somewhere drew Loki's attention. His head snapped down to find a pair of Midgardian women across the street, striding through the rain as quickly as they could. They were huddled under their umbrellas, which battled against the heavy rainfall. Even with the rain, Loki could hear them speaking in hushed tones that echoed off the buildings that still stood around them, though he could not hear exactly what they were saying. The women walked in and out of the pool of lights from the streetlamps, momentarily illuminated before being shroud in darkness once more. Loki followed them with his eyes until they were nearly out of his sight entirely. At the last possible second, though, the woman closest to him, walking on the outside, happened to look back over her shoulder. Loki did not know whether she felt his eyes on her or for another reason, but she had looked. In that moment, her eyes met his, and she came to a stop. Now that her undivided focus was on him, Loki sat up straight, confusion causing his eyebrows to furrow.

From the faint light, Loki could see her lips curling up into a delicate smile, and she gave him a small wave, ignoring the other Midgardian woman who was shouting at her to come along. However, the woman staring at Loki did not seem to hear her. She did not even flinch at how her friend shouted directly into her ear, yelling loud enough to be heard over the storm. Instead, her attention was fixed solely on Loki. It was only when her friend grabbed the woman's arm and gently tugged on it that the woman looked away. Her friend gestured to the street stretching out in front of them, and the woman nodded. After looking at Loki once more and smiling in farewell, the woman and her friend vanished back into the darkness and continued onto their destination. The woman's friend glanced at him briefly, but in that single look Loki could see the hatred and crippling fear in her eyes. She knew exactly who he was and what he had done. There was no doubt in Loki's mind that they both did.

When the echo of their harried footsteps faded into silence, Loki's expression and back relaxed, and he hunched over himself. _Alone once again – why am I not surprised?_ That was the thought that would typically return him to his angered, heated feelings and promises of retribution, but they were tempered by the memory of that Midgardian woman. No one had looked at him so softly, his mother being the last to do so. Thor had only ever looked upon him with pity and an underlying hope, while Odin would stare blankly at him in muted shame. No being from any other planet had looked at him the way that Midgardian woman had, other than his mother. But why would she look at him that way? She knew who his face and his reputation, yet she had gazed at him with such softness that Loki had never known. Why would a Midgardian have any sort of pity for him? _Did she think she was above me, and that I deserved her pity?_ The thought was not as incensed as it could have been. Also, for some reason, Loki doubted that that was why the woman had stopped. _Perhaps she was just being kind… but what have I done to earn her kindness? Her friend's reaction was much more appropriate: terror and loathing. That's what I should see whenever someone sees me. It'd be the beginning of everything I deserve._

Suddenly, there was a light tapping on his shoulder. Loki would have brushed it off as particularly heavy raindrops, but this touch was firmer and more insistent. Also, the rain had unexpectedly stopped. Well, the raining on him had stopped, but everywhere else it continued to pour. Searching for the anomaly, Loki found the Midgardian woman once again. She was standing over him, her umbrella protesting Loki from the rain rather than her. Now that she was closer, Loki could see her more clearly. Her hair was sandy blonde and chopped short, the rain flattening it against her forehead. As her lips curled up into a smile, a glimmer appeared in her hazel eyes that the gloomy atmosphere could not even dim. A dense smattering of freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks and partially across her forehead. It gave her a girlish, innocent look that clashed violently with the weariness and cynicism in Loki's expression. She was short, he noticed. _Shorter than I am, at least. Almost a foot shorter._ What really caught his attention, though, was the sling her arm limply rested in and the large, shiny burn that stretched up the side of her neck and came to a stop underneath her chin. _She had been caught in the attack. _Why did that realization instill a sense of guilt within him? She was a Midgardian, unfit for his attention and certainly not his sympathy. She belonged to one of the many races that wanted to destroy him and see him ruined. Yet, every time his eyes skimmed over the burn or the sling, pain pricked at his chest. When his eyes met hers again, though, it clenched terribly because she looked at him with such compassion and benevolence and everything that made her a naïve, irrational human which was also how his mother looked at him. No matter what he had done, his mother's eyes would shine with care for him, and this Midgardian woman was staring at him in the same way.

_Why?_ Loki tried to convey to her with his eyes. In spite of the pain he had indirectly caused her, she obviously felt no animosity towards him. Loki did not understand it. _Mother would understand. She always understood the most complex beings._If his mother was here, she would be able to tell Loki why this woman treated him kindly even though he had tried to conquer her planet. She would be able to tell him why this woman kept him dry while she was soaking wet. She would be able to tell him why this woman was different, why she didn't hate him with ever fiber of her being every day until the day she died. Loki knew that the "Hawkeye" and the "Black Widow" would. This unknown woman, though, would do nothing of the sort. There was understanding and incomprehension in her eyes, forgiveness and blame, and a desire to know why mirrored back at him.

Oddly enough, it intrigued him, and, if he could have, Loki may have smirked back at her. If she were an Asgardian, Loki may have considered her a woman he would have contemplated courting. She certainly was charming enough, and her manner was unique. Whoever this woman was, Loki found her interesting, even for a Midgardian. She belonged to the minority of people whose reactions did not fit the situation, and those people were the ones who garnered attention no matter they went. Asgardian or Midgardian, there was no difference. This woman was singular among the Midgardians and even rarer among all the beings of the universe. She was the kind of woman that, were she an Asgardian, Thor and Fandral would be competing for her affections in a matter seconds after meeting her. Other men would attempt to woo her with words of false flattery and lavish gifts. _And, if she were anything like Mother (which I assume she is), she would reject them all, even the mighty Thor, preferring her own company until finding someone she decided was good enough, in more ways than one, for her. That someone would be different, like her, the kind of person that would be brushed off and ignored by everyone else until they were noticed by her._ Loki tried as hard as he could not to notice how closely that description fit himself.

During the time spent staring at one another, neither Loki nor the Midgardian woman realized that the rain had slowed to a pattering drizzle, a staccato beat against her umbrella. Nor had they noticed that the Avengers had come outside one by one. The "earth's mightiest heroes" were standing in front of the restaurant, staring at the scene in front of them in shock. The only one able to say anything was Tony Stark, and it was no surprise that the first thing out of his mouth was a sarcastic remark. "Looks like Rudolph found himself a girlfriend." Loki's head snapped towards the sound, and the vulnerability that had been in his gaze was torn down. A wall of apathy mingled with mild rage was erected in its place, which Tony saw immediately. The billionaire smirked. Apparently, the shwarma had refueled his infuriating attitude as well as his energy. "Oh, don't get your leather in a bunch, Reindeer Games. You should feel honored. Someone's gotta love you other than your mother." Stark grinned as Loki launched himself at him but was jerked back by the chains around the pole. His intent to kill, or at least maim, was evident in his poisonous glare. "Down, boy. Take it easy. You might break a nail." Amused by Loki's violent response, Tony suavely whirled to face the Midgardian woman, took her umbrella, and shut it with a snap before swinging it back to her. At the sight of the Avengers, Her face had turned the deepest and most vibrant shade of red that any of them had ever seen. Embarrassed, the woman took her umbrella back and tucked it under her armpit while Tony asked, "What's your name, sweetheart?" She did not respond. Rather than being put out by that, Tony's grin widened. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"Enough, Man of Iron," Thor's booming voice commanded. Shrugging, Tony backed away from the woman, allowing Thor to take his place. Without the muzzle, Loki would have seethed as his former brother took up the woman's free hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. As it was, he could only roll his eyes. _Could Odinson be any more predictable? _Apparently, he could, for Thor flashed the woman a charming smirk when he pulled away. Loki's scowl was hidden behind the muzzle, but it was still very clear in the set of his eyebrows and how his gaze had hardened. "Thank you, maiden of Midgard, for watching over my brother when I could not. I also apologize if he did anything untoward or particularly cruel towards you, my fair lady. Today has been rather… rough upon us all, and I will let you know that, whatever he may have done, he does not mean it." Loki glared at Thor. _He dares to assume the meaning behind my actions?_ The god of thunder merely ignored his brother's hateful stare. "Tell me, what is your name?" Again, she did not answer. Instead, the woman slowly slid her hand out of Thor's grip. With an apologetic smile, she pointed at her ear and shrugged. This only served to confuse the Asgardian and most of the other Avengers even more. The only one who seemed to comprehend was Black Widow, and her eyes narrowed slightly as she examined the woman. Meanwhile, Thor took it as an invitation to continue speaking. "Can you not hear me? Then I shall speak louder." Sucking in more air, Thor practically shouted at her. To Loki's astonishment, and impressing everyone present, the woman did not flinch at all at how loud Thor's voice was, even though everyone else did. "THANK YOU FOR WATCHING OVER MY BROTHER. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" Although his voice echoed throughout the street like thunder, audible for miles, the Midgardian woman only shrugged once more, pointed again to her ear, and smiled. "Was I not loud enough?" Thor asked, turning back to his companions.

As for the woman, she looked back down at Loki, and the tenderness in her hazel eyes soothed the fury Loki felt towards his former brother and wiped the scowl from his face. Why was it that a simple stare from this meager woman calmed him so? It should not have been possible. However, there was no denying what a soft look from this Midgardian woman was doing to him. There had been only one person capable of tempering Loki's wild emotions, and Loki had been preparing himself to never receive a look like that ever again. Her smile was amused yet sorry. For what reason, Loki did not know. No matter, though, because her eyes sparkled in a way that made Loki's lips quirk slightly behind the muzzle. _What an odd creature… _It had been a long time since Loki had been so intrigued. _Who would've thought it'd be due to the mannerisms of a Midgardian woman? _In a brief moment of teasing, Loki winked at her. Her blush, which had faded, returned in full force, and she hid a wide grin behind her hand. He had not expected that. In fact, Loki had anticipated that she would drop her caring act and become repulsed by him in the presence of the Avengers. Once again, she surprised him by doing the opposite. _How peculiar…_

"No, you were loud enough, Thor," the Black Widow told Thor, her voice breaking through the small moment the woman and Loki had had. It did not go unnoticed by the Avengers, who, while they were distracted, looked at one another, utterly baffled. The Black Widow was the first to regain her composure. Staring directly into the woman's hazel eyes, she pointed a single finger upwards, the rest curled inwards towards her palm. Slowly, the red haired woman brought her finger to her lips and then swung it around the side of her face to touch her ear, her head cocked to the side with a questioning expression on her face. To everyone else, that signal meant absolutely nothing and did nothing more than bewilder them, and a few wondered if Natasha needed to rest and regain her wits. Unlike them, though, it meant something to the woman, and she nodded while her hands frantically moved about in a series of gesture that none of them other than Natasha could follow. The Black Widow nodded, waited for the other woman to finish, and then responded in kind before turning back to her comrades. "She's deaf. No matter how loud you would've shouted Thor, she wouldn't have been able to hear you." Natasha closed her hand into a fist and rubbed it in a circle over her chest while her other gestured to the Loki and the rest of the Avengers. Smiling, the woman merely brushed her off and responded. The men noticed that her hand airily waved in Loki's direction, yet she was beaming. That caused more than a few eyebrows to shoot upwards into hairlines. "She also says that your brother did nothing wrong, Thor. If he had, she would've deserved it for interrupting his moment of silence. She had come over here without his permission, and she apologizes." All eyes snapped towards her, and she blushed under their intense stares. They watched her as her hands moved frantically once more. "She's asking what will happen to your brother."

"Why does she want to know?" Hawkeye questioned. He was mildly suspicious of this woman, even though she looked as harmless as a kitten.

_Yes,_ Loki thought. _Why would she want to know? _There was concern in her eyes that was present in the stares of none of the Avengers, not even Thor. Yet here was this simply Midgardian woman, and she was more worried for Loki than anyone had ever been. _I don't understand why she should be, though. I do not deserve her compassion. _He had destroyed her home and nearly destroyed her, if her injuries were anything to go by. Judging by the angered stares shot his way by the Avengers, they did not go unmissed, and they blamed Loki for them entirely. The only one who did not blame him was the one who had been wounded. _Though, if she could speak, no doubt she would let me know exactly what was going on in her mind. She must blame me, or even hate me, for something that has happened. It's only human nature._

"She says," Black Widow began, "that she was just curious. She's sorry if she's prying. Besides, she should probably get home. It's getting late." The woman nodded before singing once again. "It's nice to meet you all, and thanks again for saving New York." She turned to leave but hesitated. The Avengers and Loki watched as she turned back, her lips pursed in nervousness. They watched as she signed something at Natasha, who replied without relaying the woman's message to the others. The woman then moved to stand in front of Loki, signed something at him, smiled and then scampered off, her rain boots splashing in the puddles. As soon as her back was turned, Thor began unwinding his brother's chains from the pole until they were loosened completely. Hawkeye grasped the collars of his cape and tunic, hoisted him from the ground, and shoved Loki towards his brother, ignoring how the god snarled at him from behind the muzzle and how his green eyes blazed in wrath. With Loki in tow, the Avengers began making their way towards Stark Tower, where they would spend the night and make preparations for Thor and Loki's departure in the morning. Thor walked in the back of the pack, Loki trailing behind him. Meanwhile, he mentally cursed the Midgardians, Hawkeye's actions having reignited the flames of his anger.

_How dare that slave lay a hand on me?_ _I am a god! He should be bowing before me, catering to my every whim and grateful that I don't smite him where he stands, just as all Migdardians should. _Loki's blackened mood slowly returned, devouring the warmer emotions that that woman's presence had stirred within him._ They are nothing more than insects to be crushed underneath my boots. Unimportant, inconsequential creatures worse than the cattle that roam the fields. Violent, traitorous, oppressive of their own kind – they are beings undeserving of freedom. Why should I be blamed for wanting to remove that burned from their weak shoulders? _As he fumed, Black Widow hung back until she was walking alongside Loki, watching his expression harden into one of unbridled fury. _All mortals are nothing more than mindless beasts-_

"By the way," Natasha's low voice said, cutting into Loki's metal tirade and causing his glare to shift from the sidewalk to her, "she said goodbye, Loki. It was very nice to meet you." Satisfied with the look of shock that crossed Loki's features, Natasha returned to the front and Hawkeye's side with a victorious smirk and a saunter. Unseen by her or anyone else, Loki looked back over his shoulder where the woman had vanished. The night's shadows had swallowed her whole. She was gone, and Loki was abandoned to his fate. However, Loki could not stop the concealed twitching of his lips into a soft smile of his own. It had been a long, long time since he had smiled like that.

_Although, _he thought, _I suppose there are exceptions to every rule._

* * *

**_Do not own Marvel's Avengers_**


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